"It’s not. But I’m also not going to sleep with you. Especially, not now."
He’s not saying it’s because I’m a virgin, but that’s, clearly, a big part of it, too.
The set to his features tells me I can’t change his mind. If I belabor the point, it’s only going to make him dig in his heels. So, I decide to change track.
I pick up my fork and scoop up more of the pasta, chewing on it thoughtfully.
"What’s your favorite dish to cook?"
He accepts the change in subject. "The humble omelet."
"Hmm." I look at him with interest. "Not that humble. It’s not easy to make a perfect omelet."
"It’s not." His eyes light up with an inner fire. "It’s brutally simple yet needs precision and a lightness of touch which only comes with a lot of practice. But even that's not enough. The more you practice the better you get at it, and yet… There’s a chance you don’t get it right. It’s like shooting. You keep at it. You get better with time, but there’s always a chance your calculations are off, or the winds change as you shoot, and you miss your mark."
"You’re a sniper?" I ask with a flash of insight.
He looks at me with something like admiration. "Royal Marines are commandos first and specialists second. My forte is mission planning and strategy. But yes, I also get sent on high stake missions as a marksman.”
I nod slowly. "I can see why both of those would suit your temperament."
"Oh?"
I purse my lips. "I imagine it requires extreme patience and restraint, and likely, an obsession with micro-adjustments. Not to mention, the ability to work under pressure. All of which seem second nature to you."
"We just met, and you think you already know me?" He's not insulted; he's genuinely curious.
"I have good instincts," I say with quiet confidence.
It’s something I know about myself. It’s why I’ve kept on this path of becoming a chef, despite the fact that that I have to work my way up from being a dishwasher. Literally. Something in me insists I can do this. Just like I know this man in front of me is going to play a role in my life.
"So do I." He holds my gaze.
The air between us heats. My scalp tingles. I can’t get over the fact that, despite his insistence to the contrary, whatever is between us can’t be pushed aside. "You can’t see a relationship between us. I’m not saying I accept that. But also, I’m not going to try to change your mind."
He narrows his gaze. "So, what are you hinting at?"
I tighten my hold on my fork, then peek up at him from under my eyelashes, "You could give me this one night?"
9
James
"We’d spend it talking and exploring this city. All very innocent." Her eyes are wide, her expression is innocent. She’s anything but. She’s a siren who could easily seduce me.
When I stay silent, she tosses her head. "Don’t tell me you don’t trust yourself around me?’
I don’t, but I’m not going to admit that aloud. I’m also not immune to the light of challenge in her eyes. My ego won’t let me back down from it. So, I nod. "Fine. We’ll talk. And then I’ll take you to my favorite breakfast spot."
She glances at her watch. "Huh, didn’t realize it’s already two a.m."
I haven’t noticed the hours passing either. And I haven’t thought about my past or my last mission—when I’d barely managed to escape with my life—during the time I've been with her. I wouldn’t have thought this slip of a girl could distract meenough that I’d finally escape the voices in my head which have haunted me.
I lean back in my seat. "So, where do you want to go?"
"I grew up in Yorkshire, so I’m still discovering this city." She taps her finger against her cheek, a considering look on her face. "Why don’t you surprise me?"
The light of challenge in her eyes blazes brighter, and something primal inside me roars to life. My heart slams against my ribs like it's trying to break free. My spirit feels untethered, weightless, like I've been drowning for years and suddenly remembered how to breathe.
